


Daily life happens in the woods

by thirdspinsterfromtheleft



Series: Fictional women have periods. [2]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Absolutely nothing romantic because she's thirteen, Adults support young people, Author makes wild conjectures about Tortallan society, Camping, Cloud is a strong female role model, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, Numair thinks a lot, Numair's POV, Series: The Immortals (Tamora Pierce), Skysong (Immortals Quartet), Tell-not-show period blood, mentoring, questionable parenting, which was a surprise to me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 15:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirdspinsterfromtheleft/pseuds/thirdspinsterfromtheleft
Summary: The time comes when Daine really needs to talk to a woman, but there's only Numair. He does his best.





	Daily life happens in the woods

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a story about a male mentor dealing with a girl's first period without either flipping out because he's a a vehicle for the "men can't handle menses" joke or delivering a perfectly-parsed lecture on how her body works. So I wrote it. Using Numair and Daine may have made that last point moot; you decide.

“Numair!” Daine’s hissing voice wound its way into his dreams. “Numair, wake up!”

“What?” he asked, his sleep-heavy mouth muddling the word. His mind began to process the circumstances of his unusual awakening a bit more, and he sat up. “Daine? What’s wrong?”

It was hard to see his student’s face in the scant light cast by their banked fire and the single glowstone she held. “I need - can you -” she bit her lip for a moment and screwed up her face.

“Daine!” Numair scrambled to free himself from his bedroll, concerned. “Are you in pain? What is it?” With one foot still tangled in his blankets, he reached to cup her cheek.

Daine flinched away from him and stood from her crouch, arms wrapped around her middle. “I need the privy,” she said quietly. “Can you open your barrier?”

Frowning, he asked “Of course. Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, but her voice was quiet and frightened and she wouldn’t look at him. Numair looked for Kitten; the dragon had pressed herself into a tight ball against his student’s ankle. Daine shifted her feet and the dragon made a small, worried chirp and followed so she could lean on Daine again.

Satisfied that Daine was _not_ all right and that he ought to pry a little, Numair made no move to let his barrier down, but poked up their fire until he could see her face more clearly. “Daine, tell me,” he tried. “I’m sorry if it’s awkward, but I promise you it’s all right. I’ve experienced-”

Daine let out a huff of breath that could have been a sob, but she wasn’t crying. “It’s not- I just…” She screwed up her face again, curling in on herself even more and finally burst out “It’s my monthly bleeding. Well, not monthly as yet, it’s my first, but it’s not… I’m not ill, I just need-”

A wave of complex emotion broke over Numair, but he set it aside for the moment. “Do you have what you need?”

Daine nodded and picked up a bundle of clothes and her soap pouch. She hesitated, then added one of the tin pots they used for travel. They had laid camp by a spring, but Daine and Numair both had strong feelings about fouling a water source with soap or bodily fluids of any kind. It eased his mind a little: she was certainly upset and in some kind of discomfort, but she still had her wits about her.

Numair walked over to the part of his circle that was closest to the spring and touched it with a bare foot, telling his power to lie dormant for a while.

“Take Cloud?” he asked. Daine let out that funny half-sob again and went to where the pony already stood waiting for her next to the barrier line. She leaned against Cloud’s neck for a moment, then the two disappeared into the trees.

There was water left in their kettle from last night. Numair poured a little into one of their cups then set the kettle to heat. He pulled apart Daine’s bedroll until he found the stain, about the size of a copper noble, and dabbed at it with his dampened handkerchief until the cloth stopped coming away red. That would have to do until there was time to both wash and dry the blanket properly, but at least her fresh clothes wouldn’t get marked.

He spread the damp part of the blanket flat near the fire so it could dry and dumped the water outside the barrier line, then rinsed the cup with hot water. He put a measure of one of his soothing herb medicine mixtures in the cup and filled it with water, setting it close to the fire as well so it wouldn’t cool too quickly while it steeped.

There was no sign of Daine. He straightened his own bedding from the mess he’d made of it, then sat down. After a few moments, it occurred to him that the pad of Daine’s bedroll might need cleaning as well, so he checked it. It was clean.

Numair strode to the fire, couldn’t think of anything that needed to be done there, and walked back to the barrier. He reminded himself that Daine was a capable young woman, probably wanted privacy, had Cloud and Kitten for comfort, and was within hearing distance if she did need him and call out. After a few minutes, he realized that he was pacing and dropped to the ground by the fire with his saddle as a support for this lower back and brooded.

As a man in a country where the Great Mother Goddess was worshipped, he simply didn’t have much direct experience with the fertility cycle. He knew about the natural process and had studied the theory of treating illnesses related to reproductive organs, but Carthak had been even more deeply segregated when it came to women’s issues. Women went to a female healer if they had a problem with their monthlies and if the problem was beyond the healer’s skills they went to the temple of the Goddess, not to the University.

Something close to panic coiled in Numair’s belly. What good was he in a situation like this? Even if he could have served as a healer, Daine was a healthy young woman. In all likelihood she needed a woman to talk to, not a healer.

She needed her mother. Numair swallowed the familiar surge of anger at bandits and villagers who forgot about the woman who cared for them.

Why had this happened now? Numair didn’t dare direct criticism to the Goddess in this situation, but he heartily wished that Daine’s menarche had happened while they were at Pirate’s Swoop, or the palace, or with the Riders. Daine had women who cared about her and who would gladly give her advice or sympathy or a caring hug, but none of them were within three day’s ride. All she had was Numair, woefully unqualified to offer her anything.

He ought to have considered this possibility, ought to have asked Alanna or Onua to talk to Daine long before. He was her teacher! He hadn’t been at such a loss with Daine since she had first begun to be honest with him about her past and her fears. She constantly surprised him, but he always had some idea about how to help her grow. He had never been so completely unsure of himself with her.

At least Cloud was with them. Numair raked one hand over his hair and took a moment to acknowledge the sheer absurdity of where his life had led him. He was grateful for the presence of a prickly mountain pony because right now the pony could probably make Daine feel better than her teacher could.

“You can put the barrier back.” Numair was so lost in his thoughts that Daine’s subdued voice made him jump. Aware that it would not be helpful to either his student or himself if he let Daine see how rattled he was, he tried to cover the movement by standing.

“Are you all right?” he asked, then realized that he was looming over her and went to the fire to pick up the cup he’d been steeping for her. “Here, sit down. Drink this.” He grabbed the handle of the cup and hissed; he had left it too close to the fire for too long. He used a cloth to move the cup away. “Maybe let it cool a bit, first.”

Daine stood where she was, looking at him with huge eyes. Kitten cheeped softly and tugged at her breeches.

“Daine, please, sit,” Numair said. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Daine looked down at Kitten and smiled slightly. She sat with her knees drawn up, one hand loosely hugging her calves and one caressing the baby dragon. She looked small to Numair, who looked down on her from what suddenly seemed like a very imposing height. He wished he had a way of comforting her, making her feel safe. Lacking a better option, he took her clean blanket from her bedroll and handed it to her.

Daine looked at it as if she didn’t know what it was. Instead of wrapping it around herself, she rolled it up sloppily and stuffed it against her abdomen with her legs to press it in place. Kitten whistled softly and Daine sighed.

“Magelet?” Numair said, settling himself on the ground next to her.

“It hurts,” Daine told him.

Numair sternly told himself not to panic.

“I think it’s regular cramps, but-” his student’s voice caught in her throat. “Ma always said she had an easy enough time of it, and I would too.”

Numair tried to speak, but nothing would come out. He swallowed and cleared his throat, hoping she hadn’t noticed. “The infusion should help,” he said. “It’s not the best, but- it’ll help. I’ll make sure to carry better medicines for you. I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“I didn’t think either,” she broke in, and Numair had never been so happy to be interrupted. “Ma’d have scolded me for going off without any supplies. She made sure I know better.”

Numair didn’t think any mother could be angry with her daughter for not carrying supplies for her monthly bleeding when it hadn’t yet presented itself, but now was not the time to argue the point. He could see tears glinting in Daine’s eyes.

“Shall I see if I can get Alanna in the fire?” he asked. She was certainly in his range, but he knew she was at Pirate’s Swoop and it was unlikely she’d be near an active fire this hour. Still, he felt he had to ask.

He’d intended his offer to be comforting, but Daine shook her head then began to cry in earnest. Kitten glared at Numair and tried to maneuver herself into Daine’s lap, full of blanket as it was. Daine let her knees fall until she sat in a tailor’s seat and cuddled the dragon close atop the wadded fabric.

Numair scooted closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. When she leaned into him he could feel her trembling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she turned her face into his chest.

“I miss her,” she said, voice muffled by tears and his shirt. “I never thought she wouldn’t be here.”

Numair’s own throat was thick. He didn’t think he could speak clearly, and he couldn’t think of anything helpful to say even if he could. He brought his free hand up so that he cradled her head against his shoulder and held her.

She stopped shuddering with quiet sobs after a time. Numair could feel her body tense against him from time to time, and he knew she must be hurting. He held still, wanting to wait until she moved away.

“Ma thought my Gift might come with my monthly,” Daine finally said. Her voice was sad, but clear. “There was a girl in the village whose magic showed that way. The lord’s mage took her right off for lessoning.”

“There’s often a change in a person’s magical ability when the body undergoes changes,” Numair said, happy to talk about a subject he was familiar with, even if he suspected he wouldn’t like where Daine was going with the conversation. “Usually it’s a growth of a talent that has already presented. Sometimes an aptitude for a specific branch of magic reveals itself, or sometimes a power that has lain dormant bursts out.” He grinned ruefully. “I used to think that girls had it easy,” he admitted. “One physical event and you know for certain that your power has chosen the path it will follow.”

Daine knocked her elbow into his side. He flinched a little exaggeratedly, relieved that she could tease him back. “I did say ‘used to think,’” he said in self defense. “I learned better. I had a good friend who… enlightened me.”

“Good, because I don’t feel like doing it right now,” Daine retorted.

She leaned back into his shoulder and stared at the fire. Numair thought that he ought to suggest that she drink the infusion he’d prepared for her, which was surely growing cold. There were better medicines for cramps, but it should help her enough for her to sleep.

“Do you think it still might?” Daine whispered.

“What might, magelet?”

“Magic,” Daine said. “Do you think she was right? That my Gift might show up, with this?”

Numair craned his neck to look at her face. “It’s not likely. I looked inside you, remember, and I would have seen even a dormant Gift.”

Daine didn’t reply. She stared fiercely at the fire, tears glinting in her eyes again.

 _“Her mother was a hedgewitch,”_ Onua had told Numair when Numair had travelled with her and Daine that first time. _“She wanted Daine to have the gift, not just whatever she has with animals. Fool woman kept testing her as if she thought the girl would develop it overnight.”_

Whatever reason Sarra had, however wrong Numair thought she had been to want Daine to be anything other than her wonderful self, she had clearly desperately wanted her daughter to be able to follow in her footsteps as a healer. Numair had thought that Daine had come to terms with her lack of human magic and had come to love the wild magic she had, but some dreams lay deep in the heart and died so hard.

“I was trying to make a picture in the fire,” Daine confessed. “I thought, well, I didn’t think, really. It just occurred to me, once I knew what was happening, that maybe…”

“I don’t even know if it’s possible,” Numair told her. “All the mages I’ve known with both wild magic and the Gift - and there haven’t been many - if they have one talent in any strength, the other is barely a whisper.” Onua had some balance between her two powers, but her Gift was limited and she hadn’t even been aware that she was horse-hearted until she met Numair. His teacher Faziy... he often wondered about her affinity with lightning snakes, but lightning was drawn to the human Gift in any case. She wouldn’t have needed much wild magic to call them to her. Numair certainly didn’t.

“But I don’t have even a whisper,” said Daine.

Numair brought himself out of his musings. “Daine, you are so full of magic that it nearly overpowered your humanity,” he pointed out. “One person can only hold so much power, and you are brimming full of _wild_ magic.”

Daine didn’t answer.

“Wouldn’t your mother be proud of you, with all you’ve done this year?” Numair asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping himself. “You’ve learned so much, and you’ve healed so many-”

“I don’t know. She always…” Daine bit her lip and shut her eyes, hunching into herself with pain. Kitten started to croon soothingly until Daine said “alright, Kit, I’m fine.” Numair wasn’t sure, and Kitten clearly had her doubts as well, but Daine continued. “Ma never held with fighting. All I’ve done, even after I left Snowsdale…

“I’m not sure she would approve.”

Numair squeezed her shoulders more tightly. “Daine, you have done things no one has done before, things no one has been able to do before,” he said. He didn’t want to speak ill of Sarra, but sometimes he wanted to curse the woman as much as he cursed those villagers who had hunted her. “If your mother had even imagined the creatures and circumstances you’ve faced, she would have been proud. I’m certain she would have been.” He hesitated, then kissed the top of her head. “I know I am.”

Daine started to shake against him again, weeping quietly but steadily.

After a time she sat up and drew her knees up again, wincing. Kitten made a complaining noise as she was crowded off Daine’s lap, but Daine didn’t respond. Numair frowned and fetched the infusion he had mixed for her.

“It’s gone a bit cold,” he said. “Drink it all anyway.”

“Just- give me a moment,” Daine said, eyes closed. “It’s not as bad and then everything just _clenches..._ ” She pressed herself into a smaller ball and bowed her head. Numair watched until she relaxed, then pressed the cup into her hand.

“You’ll tell me if it gets too painful,” he instructed, concerned. “You know my Gift’s mostly useless here, but we can find a village with a midwife.”

Daine nodded and drank the infusion down, making a face when she reached the soggy herbs at the bottom. “Ma said some girls just have it bad, and there’s nothing much that can be done but pray to the Goddess,” she said softly.

“Maybe nothing she could do,” he said, and instantly regretted it. Whatever Sarra’s faults, Daine missed her fiercely.

“I mean, maybe not in Snowsdale,” he amended. “She didn’t have the resources that we have at the Palace or even at Pirate Swoop.”

Daine didn’t seem offended by his carelessness, thankfully. She nodded in agreement and was opening her mouth to speak when she flinched and dropped the cup to the ground, curling up in pain. Kitten crooned and pressed herself close to Daine’s side. Numair rubbed Daine’s back through it, frowning.

“If matters don’t improve in the morning, we will find a healer,” he said, once the tension in her shoulders had eased. “That doesn’t look pleasant at all.”

“It’s not,” Daine said, cuddling Kitten again to try to reassure her. From the dragon’s soft croons, it sounded as if she was more interested in comforting Daine. “It feels like a mule’s kick, only it keeps going.”

Numair’s frown deepened. “Is it alright if I take a look?” he asked. “I won’t be able to do anything, but I’d like to try. I hate to see you in so much pain.”

Daine nodded. “Why can’t you do anything?” she asked. “Ma always said that men were no good with women’s problems, but the lord’s healer was a man, and he delivered the lord’s grandbabies, each one.”

“It’s a matter of anatomy, actually,” Numair said. “Lie back.” When Daine obeyed, Numair placed both hands low on her abdomen, over her shirt and breeches. “The healing Gift can do a great deal to cure sickness and ease pain, but it must be directed by its wielder. Some of that direction is from the healer’s mind, which depends on the study of anatomy and medicine, but much of it is instinctive guidance from the body. The instinct must come before the knowledge. When the healer doesn’t have the same organs as the patient - womb, birth canal, and so on - there’s no instinct, and the Gift cannot be effectively directed.”

“That’s why Thom and Kally could help with healing at Pirate’s Swoop,” said Daine. Numair could feel her abdomen cramping, but her face didn’t let on. “They haven’t studied anatomy.”

“Yes. Children with an aptitude can give strength easily, and heal a person on the point of death.” Numair sat back, frowning. “Healing purely on instinct is more tiring. It’s why it’s so important that untrained healers be supervised. It’s also why almost all mages can work as healers with sufficient study, but there are some who are innately suited for it.”

“Like the Lioness,” Daine said, and yawned.

“Yes. But I can’t feel anything,” Numair said, frustrated. He had known that he wouldn’t be able to, but he had let himself hope that he could help her. “I can feel your muscles knotting themselves, but I can feel as much with my hands. I can’t get at the source.”

“Your hands felt nice,” Daine said sleepily. “Warm. The cramping wasn’t so bad.”

Heat! Of course. Numair felt like a fool. He knew that heat eased all kinds of pain, especially cramps from monthlies.

As Numair rose and inspected the stones rimming their fire, selecting one double the size of his fist and rolling it away from the flames with a stick, Daine stroked Kitten thoughtfully.

“Why the male healer to deliver my lord’s grandbabies, then? If he couldn’t do anything.”

“Most childbeds aren’t eventful,” Numair said absently. “If there’s a problem during the process of giving birth, a healer can usually detect it visually or manually; the Gift in that case is only confirmation. At that point, with proper study, even a male healer can address most issues. Most women won’t have a man in the birthing room, though.” He rummaged through his saddlebag. He thought he had a clean shirt that was nearly ready to be taken apart for rags...

“The lord’s wife died in childbirth,” Daine remembered. “Ma told me they had the midwife from Snowsdale there, but she couldn’t do anything. There wasn’t a lady in the castle until the heir married.”

“Perhaps the daughter-in-law didn’t have her choice, then. The healer should insisted on having a Gifted midwife there, at least; she could have kept an eye on things even if she didn’t have the power or skill to do more than tell him if anything was amiss. Snobbery.” He produced the shirt, then paused. “Or he might have been Trickster-touched, I suppose. It’s specific to each such person, whether they have a talent for such things.”

Numair held the shirt out for Daine’s inspection. “Do you have enough cloth to catch the blood?” he asked. “These sleeves ought to work well.”

“Don’t you need your shirt?” Daine hadn’t moved from where she lay by the fire, but she twisted her neck to look at him. “And what do you mean, Trickster-touched?”

“Those who are born in a body with a different sex than they truly are,” Numair explained, cutting the seams connecting the sleeves to the rest of the shirt. He wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t familiar with the concept. “You know the Trickster’s gender varies, sometimes according to the region where he or she is worshipped and sometimes according to his or her whim. It’s believed that the Trickster chooses some and changes them in the womb; it’s his or her way of making priests and priestesses.”

His honed knife had made quick work of the shirt. He handed the sleeves to her and knelt to wrap the warm stone in the rest of it. “The shirt was nearly worn out. It would have gone for rags when we returned anyway; you’ll make better use of it. You ought to keep them in a separate pouch so they’ll be clean. Doubtless Alanna or Onua will be able to advise you better, get you proper supplies.”

The stone had cooled enough that he could hold it with the protection of his former shirt. He tucked the fabric in as securely as he could, trying to make sure the heat radiated evenly. “This is for you as well. You need to get some sleep, and heat on your belly will ease the cramps. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“I knew that from Ma, and I didn’t think of it either.” Daine levered herself up onto her elbows. “Your tea helped. I think I am ready for sleep.”

Numair dragged Daine’s bedroll back to where she had laid it when they first made camp. “The blanket’s dry,” he told her. “I think I got the blood up. There’s a stain still, but that can’t be helped until we have a proper washtub.”

Daine came to stand next to him, holding Kitten in her arms. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. Her voice sounded odd, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes when he tried to catch her gaze.

“Daine, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” he told her, trying to sound matter-of-fact and reassuring. “I know that, properly, you ought to have a woman to talk to about your monthlies and anything else about growing into a woman that has you concerned. You know that Alanna or Onua or Thayet or Buri or any number of Rider women would be honored to give you advice. I can only do my best by you, and I’m sorry I’m all you have right now. But I promise you that you can come to me with anything and I won’t mind. I will do whatever you need.” She hadn’t looked at him though all of his speech. “Daine?”

Daine looked up, and hugged him suddenly with the arm not holding Kitten. “Thank you,” she said into his chest.

Numair wrapped both arms around her, careful not to squeeze Kitten. “Of course, magelet,” he whispered, then released her. “Try to get to sleep. We can find a healer in the morning, or continue on to the palace if you’re up to it.”

“The palace. I want to… The temples there, there’s a ritual,” Daine said as she settled herself into her bedroll and curled around her rock.

“I know of it,” Numair said, kneeling to bank the fire again. “Not the specifics, of course.”

“I wouldn’t know specifics either, but Ma had me along once. A midwife can do it if there’s no priestess about.”

“Sensible.” The fire banked, Numair went to his own bedroll. He was exhausted.

“I did some of it in the forest, the part that must be done right off,” Daine said, sounding half-asleep already. “But for the blessing, you need another woman. I want to wait until I’m with Alanna or Onua for that.” Kitten chirped and Daine sighed deeply. “That’s nice, Kit.”

Numair looked at his student. The dragon had pressed herself to the young woman’s low back atop the blankets. “Daine?”

“Hm?”

“The goddess marks you as her own. Congratulations.”

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a lot of time thinking about how magic works in the Tortall universe and trying to reconcile the lack of continuity that probably comes the evolution of the concept in Tamora Pierce's world. I think the ideas in this fic meld the magic in The Song of the Lioness with that in Tempest and Slaughter, and account for Aly's experience in "Nawat" and the bit where Neal is delivering babies in Lady Knight. I would love to hear your thoughts! And if you find typos, save me some embarrassment and point them out; I greatly appreciate it.


End file.
